A Menagerie of Most Peculiar Ambitions: The Curious Case of a Moscow Matron

It is a truth universally acknowledged that some ladies, having reached the autumn of their years, find the quietude of a drawing-room quite insufferable. One particular gentlewoman of Moscow, evidently bored by the mundane rituals of tea and gossip, decided that her modest residence of some fifty square metres ought to serve as a sanctuary for the most improbable collection of creatures.

Imagine, if you will, the scene: a dainty parlour where one might expect to find a lace doily and a plate of fine confectioneries, but instead, one encounters a Caiman of the crocodile variety and an Imperial Boa. These formidable gentlemen of the reptile world shared their quarters with a fox, a dozen and three birds—including owls of the polar variety and ravens of a most melancholic disposition—and ten dogs, all crowded together in a manner that would make any respectable gentleman recoil in horror.

Alas, such eccentricities rarely escape the notice of the neighbourhood. The local residents, who perhaps prefer their hallways scented with lavender rather than the musk of a tropical swamp, raised a hue and cry regarding the most distressing odors and the presence of insects. It appears the lady’s visit to the natural world was a one-way affair; the biological remnants of the animals' feed remained within the walls, and the dogs, poor creatures, were never permitted a promenade in the fresh air.

The Tagansky Court, acting with a severity that leaves little room for the romanticism of the wild, has decreed that this domestic zoo must be dismantled. The matron is now commanded to liberate her dwelling of all its wild guests, permitting only two dogs to remain. Should she hesitate in restoring her home to a state of sanitary propriety, she shall be fined a thousand rubles for every passing day, in addition to a sum of twenty thousand for the court's expenses.

One cannot help but sigh at the folly of such bourgeois ambitions. In her quest to bring the exotic into her salon, she forgot that a boa constrictor is a poor substitute for a fashionable hat. Furthermore, the law of the land has now grown stricter; as of the coming year, the government has prohibited the keeping of one hundred and twenty-one species of exotic beasts within one's home. It seems that the age of the private urban jungle is drawing to a close, leaving our dear lady to face the crushing boredom of a clean apartment.